


It's Not the End of the Road (As Long As You Can Make The Turn)

by Telaryn



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Manipulation, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Physical Disability, Secrets, Snark, Snarky Tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:04:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telaryn/pseuds/Telaryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's not imagining things - Natasha is off her game.  Old habits die hard, however, and when the self-sufficient Black Widow won't admit her suspicions, it's up to the last person in her life that she trusts to convince her to open up and make the right call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Not the End of the Road (As Long As You Can Make The Turn)

She’d emptied both her Glocks into the paper target. Thirty rounds total at range of twenty-five meters – Natasha hadn’t been challenging her accuracy, she’d just wanted to see if Clint’s comment about her being “off” on their last assignment had any merit. Ten holes were tightly grouped at the center of the printed head of the target; another twelve in the center of the chest.

That left eight outside of the kill zone – two of them far enough off the mark that Natasha went cold inside. She had been feeling some strange aches lately, but she’d written it off to their current workload. Nothing was to interfere with the mission. The body’s protests were something to be pushed aside until there was space to deal with them.

It was a lesson she had learned very early. Its twin was that unless your problem was severe enough to interfere with the work, it was easier for all concerned if you kept it to yourself.

“Let me guess,” a voice drawled. “You missed one?” Natasha looked up and saw the last person she needed to be around in her current mood.

“Go away Stark,” she snapped. The look on her face would have given most people second thoughts about sticking around, but Tony Stark wasn’t most people. He walked calmly towards her and instead of giving into her growing fears and knocking him on his ass, Natasha stood quietly – folding the paper target until the truth it carried couldn’t be seen any longer.

Tony met her eyes without flinching. “The numbness – is it in your fingers or your wrists?”

Natasha blinked, startled. “I don’t have…” He shot her a look that silenced her more effectively than any words could have done. “Wrists,” she admitted finally, feeling a tension she hadn’t even known she was carrying in her back and shoulders finally ease. “It’s not bad though – it comes and goes.”

Stark reached out and took the folded target from her; Natasha didn’t fight him for it. “I know you haven’t been to medical here – have you seen anyone else about what’s been going on?”

“It’s nothing,” Natasha protested again. “We’ve been in the field for over a month – how come nobody’s calling Clint out on being less than 100%?”

“Clint knows how to ask for help when something’s too big for him to handle,” was Tony’s automatic response.

She was tempted to laugh, but he wasn’t wrong. Behind the dark glasses and the ever-present sarcastic humor, Clint Barton was oftentimes too smart for his own good. _He knew you’d reject sympathy._ Natasha suddenly understood that her _partner_ had been the one to go to Stark with his concerns, and for a moment the sense of betrayal stung deep.

“I’ve read all the material on Petrovitch and his methods you know,” Stark said into the sudden silence.

“That’s classified,” she said automatically – knowing even before the words left her lips that classified meant nothing to a man like Tony Stark.

“I know. Adorable, isn’t it?” He paused, sobering. “If you complained about your wrists, I’m betting it would have meant more drug therapy or you playing one of his little survival games?” Natasha hugged her arms across her chest, barely suppressing a shudder. “No real attempt to fix what was going on.”

“It made us more self-sufficient. Stronger,” she countered.

“All it did,” Stark said, “was guarantee that anyone less than perfect was culled from the herd.”

Natasha laughed bitterly. “And what do you think SHIELD is going to do to me? They’ll poke and prod and shoot me up with their own cocktails to see if I can be saved for the cause, and throw me aside if I can’t.” She felt the unfamiliar aching threat of tears and hated herself for the weakness.

“So come to me.” For probably the first time since she’d met the man, Natasha could find no hint of anything but a genuine offer of help in what Stark was saying. “We’ll keep it in the family until I figure out what’s going on, and once you have the right information about what’s happening and your options, you can make whatever decision you think is best.”

Her mind was suddenly spinning. Personal autonomy – the right to make her own decisions about things that affected her – was still a very new concept to her. “What if the worst happens?”

Once again Natasha was grateful that Stark didn't make a crude joke. “What you consider crippled is still better than 99% of the people in this business.” Now he did smile. “Besides – do you really think Barton will work with anyone else? Or that anyone else would have him?”

The truth of it startled a smile from her; Natasha ducked her head, covering her mouth with her hand. “Thank you,” she said, when she could trust her control again.

His expression was calm – almost gentle. “Whatever this is, we’re going to fix it,” he said. “You have my word.”

Their eyes met, and Natasha realized that she was very likely looking at the real Tony Stark, the man who stayed buried deep beneath the flash and sarcasm of his public persona. “You need to be careful Stark,” she quipped. “Keep acting like this and people might start thinking that we’re friends.”

Now it was his turn to smile – his broad, flashy grin. “Can’t have that. I’ve got a reputation to protect, after all.”


End file.
